


Dancing

by deanbennylife (kams_log)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Dancer Dean, Dancing, Fluff, Juilliard, M/M, Playwriting, Writer Benny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 10:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4915786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kams_log/pseuds/deanbennylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loved to dance. It was just that simple. He loved the rhythm, the routine, the complexities and the simplicities, anything and everything about it he craved and chased after.</p><p>When he was little, he never thought there was anything wrong with it.</p><p>One, Mary had seen him. She didn’t interrupt, and waited until the song ended and Dean’s hands were in the air. She smiled at him and stepped into the room to join him. She started the next song and rested her hands on her knees, looking him square in the eye before asking politely, “May I dance with you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dancing

**Author's Note:**

> for my friend mo (cockleddean.tumblr.com) who has reignited my love of dancer!dean~
> 
> this is for you my friend :)

Dean loved to dance. It was just that simple. He loved the rhythm, the routine, the complexities and the simplicities, anything and everything about it he craved and chased after.

When he was little, he never thought there was anything wrong with it. If anything, he’d been encouraged to do it. His mother caught him dancing to his parents’ favorite tapes, shuffling back and forth and trying to get the moves right from the children’s drama he watched every Saturday.

Mary had seen him, didn’t interrupt, and waited until the song ended and Dean’s hands were in the air. Sweat touched the edges of his forehead but his face was alight and beaming. Well, it was, until he spotted his mother hovering in the doorway.

She smiled at him, though, and stepped into the room to join him. She started the next song and rested her hands on her knees, looking him square in the eye before asking politely, “May I dance with you?”

Just like that, Dean beamed again. He took her hand and the two of them danced for the rest of the hour until John came home.

It was only after the fire that Dean stoppned dancing. For the first year, he couldn’t bring himself too. He always felt like he’d lost a partner, lost the most important part of what it meant to dance.

He tried, once, on Mary’s birthday. He put on _Hey Jude_ and tried to sway, quickly getting lost in the music, but he’d stopped cold when John spotted him.

The look on his father’s face was enough to shut Dean up for the rest of the year.

He’d only been five at the time.

Dean kept dancing though. After enough time passed, he couldn’t bear to stop dancing. Not for anything. Whenever his toe tapped to a good song, ears perking at that perfect beat, he could swear he saw Mary smiling down at him. He could feel her hands in his, guiding his movements and securing the motions until they all blended together in perfect harmony.

He never danced in front of his family, but he joined clubs at school. The first time John and Sammy saw him dance, he was twelve years old in the school play. He was the Tin-Man in the _Wizard of Oz_. Dean found the role fitting. He loved the jerky movements, the careful structure and purpose behind every beat and synchronization. His favorite dance was when the Tin-Man was given a real heart. He held it close for the rest of the play, eyes falling on his family at the end.

His father was crying. Sammy looked awestruck.

Dean bowed with the rest of the cast.

Fast forward and Dean was studying dance at Juilliard. New York was beautiful, but it was never quite like home in Kansas. Sam was on his way to high school graduation, and more than likely, Stanford in Cali’. He Skyped with his family often, almost nightly if possible. He told them all about what he was learning, even showing some of the routines to Sammy when he begged and prodded Dean enough.

It was late one night, long after Sammy had turned in for bed, that John and Dean were still talking through their webcams and microphones, when John grunted, “I’m real glad you’re happy, son.”

Dean had stared at him long and hard, uncertain of how to respond.

John didn’t need an answer, however. “Sometimes, you look just like your mother up there, on the stage. It’s like she’s glowin’ right through you.”

Dean wiped his eyes and grinned, moved. “Thanks Dad.”

John grinned and nodded, eyes shiny in the low lighting. “Get some rest Dean. Don’t you gotta’ routine tomorrow?”

Dean did have a routine the next morning, with a new upcoming playwright from Louisiana. Dean sat with the rest of the main performers as the young man came in, bright blue eyes scanning the room and stage like it was his first time, not just another project on the road to his success.

But it was alright with Dean. He viewed it exactly the same.

The man’s name was Benny Lafitte. He had a drawl a mile long that sent shivers down half the cast’s spines and kept at least a dozen girls blushing throughout the read through.

After it was over, the playwright caught Dean before he could disappear. “I hear you’re one of the best this school’s got,” the man grinned, slow and gentle.

Dean grinned and shrugged. “I’m just doing what I love man.”

This made the man’s eyes sparkle, like starlight, before he chuckled, “Hopefully, we all are, chief. Just wanted ta’ ask if ya’ had any worries about the material here.”

“Nothing we can’t sort out,” Dean replied easily. “But... if you really wanna’ know, we could talk about it over coffee before practice next week?”

Benny beamed. “I’d like ta’ take you up on that.”

It became their tradition. Before every routine, practice, edit, practice, routine, they would meet up an hour early to go over everything they had planned. If a solid forty minutes of the time was eaten up getting to know each other and how they came to Juilliard, then that was their problem. But Dean didn’t have a single problem with it, and neither did Benny.

It was the night before their big performance that Benny caught up to him behind the stage, just enough away from the rest of the cast that they had privacy.

Benny’s face was flushed, anxious. Dean wanted to reach up and cup his face, remind him that it was all going to be okay. The man had fought his way tooth and nail to get to that school, going through tragedy after tragedy but still managing to break through and make the world see his talent.

Yet, despite it all, Benny had confessed he’d never been able to shake his nerves. “It’s a habit I’ll die with, darlin,’” Benny had mumbled.

Now, it seemed obvious those nerves were striking again. “I don’t think I got this, chief,” Benny groaned, wringing his hands together and staring at the set up around them. “They’re all gonna’ hate it. I know it.”

“It’s gonna’ be great, Benny,” Dean reassured. Instead of touching the other man’s face, he instead squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “You’re great. Every single one of us love the story you’ve set up and none of us would be here if we weren’t damn good at what we do.”

“Doesn’t mean everythin’s gonna’ be good, though.”

His friend looked distraught. Dean sighed and grabbed Benny by the shoulders, pulling him down so Dean could press his lips to the soft expanse of Benny’s soft brown hair.

When Benny raised his head again, his cheeks were flushed, this time not from anxiety but fluster.

“Dean?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dean simply grinned and winked, patting Benny once more on the shoulder. “I missed, but I figured you needed to keep your wits about you until we get to the _real_ distractions.”

Benny grinned, cheeks burning. “I look forward to that... cher.”

This time Dean blushed. Benny smirked and cupped Dean’s face, pulling him forward for a quick peck on the lips.

Dean’s head swam in colors for all of three seconds before it pulled away, leaving him dazed in wonder.

“Now, try dancin’ through that,” Benny chuckled. “Somethin’ else ta’ look forward to. Don’t ya’ think?”

Dean nodded hard, eyes gleaming.

“Get on out there. Show’s ready for ya.’”

Dean grinned and stepped back. “It’s waiting for you too.”

“Better not keep it waitin.’”

The performance went beautifully. Benny got a standing ovation, as he was famous for. Dean got a bouquet of flowers from his ever loyal friends. That night those same flowers sat in a vase on Benny’s table; they were there all night.

The next morning Dean called up John and Sammy with the news.

**Author's Note:**

> me: lovefromdean.tumblr.com & deanbennylife.tumblr.com
> 
> i hope you liked it~! thank you for reading :)


End file.
